


The Witcher Clockwork

by MongrelBitzer



Category: Danny Phantom, Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Anal Sex, Blood and Violence, Body Calligraphy, Demon Sex, Exorcisms, Light Bondage, M/M, Medicinal Drug Use, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 11:39:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5784013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MongrelBitzer/pseuds/MongrelBitzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Monster Hunter, Witcher Clockwork, blows into a new armpit of a town and finds dark rumors surrounding the town of Amity and its Lord, Vladimir Masters. He goes to investigate. Sexy, very explicit, demon exorcism times ahead. (Scared Vlad Masters and Diva Demon Vlad Plasmius are separate beings)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Witcher Clockwork

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Danny Phantom Fandom. Although this is set in the Witcher Universe, the only thing you need to know is that Witcher = Monster Hunter. No other story points are used from this universe. Anything else is from basic Medieval Alternative Universe stuffs. We good? All right

> **_Monstrum, or a Portrayal of Witchers_**  
>  _Anonymous_
> 
> _"Indeed, there is nothing more repulsive than these monsters that defy nature and are known by the name of witcher, as they are the offspring of foul sorcery and witchcraft. They are unscrupulous scoundrels without conscience and virtue, veritable creatures from hell capable only of taking lives. They have no place amongst decent and honest folk._ _… where these villains nest and practice foul rituals must be wiped off the face of the earth, and all evil traces of it need be treated with salt and saltpeter to complete the deed."_

 

Purple was the color of kings and queens, of the powerful and holy, of vibrant mornings and clotted blood. To say that purple was an expensive color would be a vast understatement. 10,000 molluscs had to be cracked open for the prize of one gram of Tyrian dye. A pound of purple wool cost a year of a man’s pay, sometimes more.

Yet the bulky man that had just entered the squalid armpit of town wore a heavy cloak of it. His face and hair were hidden within volumous folds of his cowl and the heavy wool bunched and swung down his back. The few inches of mud caked onto the hem seemed like a sin. The whole thing swung as his dark boots thundered down the mismatched cobbles of the street.

His swords gave his profession away. Two Great Sword pommels in scabbards that bounced at his hip. An armament of potions and ready to go grenades was strapped across his chest in thick leather belts. People parted in front of him and collected in his wake like a knot. Others followed him a ways like hungry dogs down the dirty street.

_Witcher_ , was the excited whisper the dirty townsfolk murmured loudly behind their hands along with a myriad of other names. _Monster Hunter, Freak, King’s Whore._ There were plenty of stories for the dirty townspeople to share round a fire when they were scared in the night.

The man didn’t say a word, didn’t need to ask for directions for his destination. Finding the town’s pub was as simple as following the staggering drunkards and the smell of acidic ick. He found himself at the tavern ‘Cap’s Feather.’ Minstrel music and boisterous laughter echoed out from within. His gloved hands creaked slightly as he swung the door open, but in the dark dank of the pub, no one seemed to care to notice him. Here his purple cloak seemed almost completely black. Regardless, he picked his way through the crowd towards the bar, ignoring patrons continued making merry around. The bartender jumped a good inch seeing him, and although the small smirk of his face was hidden in complete darkness, he knew his red eyes glowed slightly like a cat’s in the low light.

“I’m in town looking for a job,” the Witcher shared as he placed a couple of gold pieces on the wooden bar top to signal for a drink.

The bartender grabbed a mug off the bar and wiped it out with the gross rag he had over his shoulder. His eyes flicked between the stranger, the money, and his meagre selection of grog before he selected the strongest swill and served.

“Urm,” the bartended cleared his throat in a phlegmy cough. “Anything in particular you hold in interest?” the bartender’s eyes roved over the stranger taking a long swig.

The stranger wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “rumours, stories, gossip, anything you have that’s mysterious and doesn’t sit right.”

The bartender’s face widened in shock as he noticed the twin blades, one steel and one silver. Suddenly fearful of the Monster Slayer. “ _Witcher_ ,” he hissed quietly in realisation, looking left and right conspiratorially to check if anyone had heard his soft exclamation. Reassured, he placed his tobacco stained fingers onto his bar and leaned his pot belly into it to get closer to the stranger. “There are always strange things about for a Witcher,” whispered the bartender in tobacco breathe strong as death as he refilled the stranger’s drink up to brimming point.

“but for one such as yourself there’s only one story worth telling. There’s something wrong at Amity –that’s the town next over down King’s Way. Terrible stories. Some real gory business going on: killings, kidnappings, and disappearances and the like. The area has been completely taken over by thugs, bandits, and thieves. We know because their cadavers get regularly dragged down the road to the casket maker here.”

“What could possibly be of interest to them there?”

“The Lord there. One Lord Vladimir Masters. All of this business started by the strangest thing; the Lord sent all of his staff away.”

“Maybe he just wanted some alone time.”

“There ar’ a couple of things you gotta know about Lord Masters: that he was minted as a Lord during the Wars –did something valorous to get that little package deal-, that it’s rumoured he’s filthy rich, that he never took no wives nor whores to spend his money for him, and that he is extremely proud; it’s odd he hasn’t been seen in weeks. A Witcher could probably make a King’s ransom if they should turn their swords to this mystery, I reckon.”

“He’s probably long dead.”

“But the bandits are still rolling in! What say you to that?”

The Witcher finished his drink and sat turning and mulling the information over in his head for a long moment. He hoped that it wouldn’t just be humans going at each other or it wasn’t worth his time… but he had a _feeling_ about this one. “Thank you,” he finally murmured, placing a small pouch of coins of the bar top that was quickly snatched away. He would go to the casket maker, say a quick hello to the dead Jims there, and head down the dirt of King’s Way. To Amity.

“Wait! Stranger! What is your name?”

He tilted his head over his shoulder contemplating whether or not to give it to him.

“Clockwork,” he finally said and left the tavern.

\---------------------------------------------------------

The dusky stone of the castle loomed over everything at the top of the hill, but his solitude had been undisturbed through his entire walk through town. Not a bandit or soul in sight.

Despite the time of day the inside was almost completely dark, not a single lit candle or torch in sight. The Witcher popped open a Cat Eye potion and threw it back. Grimacing slightly at the bitter taste, but it made his eyes quickly adjust to the low light. Clockwork let his eyes rove around the small entrance passage he had entered in. Rich fabrics that adorned the walls to stave off the Castle’s natural chill were ripped to tatters. Ripped by something that had  _claws_. The man plucked the side of a gold stitched mural to study the marks. The claw marks were identical to the ones on some of the dead bandits he had found.

He dropped the fabric and his footsteps echoed ominously as he moved through the empty halls, dusty from disuse. Hadn't it only been 3 weeks since the staff left?

The small hall opened up into vaulted ceilings, stained glass windows, and deep green  marbled floors. Clockwork crouched down with a loud creaking of his leathers, running his fingers along jagged scratches on the floor. Outlining a broad foot. A large beasty, then. Bipedal. A werewolf perhaps?

He pads softly now through the empty, empty space, more carefully. Following the marks on the rich marble floors. They lead deeper into the castle.

Eventually after much wandering through various chambers, he comes across two great oak doors latched shut on the outside. Dried brown flakes of blood cling to the intricate woodwork and scratches score the underside of the door as if something had been trying to get out. He pressed his ear to the crack, listening carefully. Nothing. Regardless, he slowly drew his silver sword and unlatched the door. With a firm shoulder, he threw his weight into the doors and they both lumbered open.

It was a spacious bedroom. Broken furniture lay in mottled pieces across the floor. Through the thickly cast iron bars on the window he could see the sun setting. Orange sun beams dappled light across dust motes that danced slowly through the still air and alighted across the prone form of a man collapsed on a grand four poster bed. Picking his way carefully through the debris, he stalked closer to the figure.

A single man, white of cheek but with dark circles marred under his eyes lay sprawled across destroyed bed covers. His silver hair splayed across the remains of a goose feather pillow and sparkled slightly in the waning light.

The Witcher tugged his glove off at the knuckles between his clenched teeth, his peculiar blue skin naked to the light. The rough pads of his fingers rasped as they ran down the other's velvet like cheek. He lightly took the hairy chin and moved the face to the side. There were no bite marks on his neck. There were also no obvious scars over the body he could see though the silks of his fine clothes that lay open in tatters about him.

Clockwork pried a glass vial out of a leather strap on his chest and popped the cork off with his teeth. Dripping a few drops onto the man's forehead. The reaction was instant. The Lord's face smoked and his eyes shot open, red as blood stained suns. Mouth opened in an unearthly scream. The screaming man’s chest spasmed rapidly. Muscles ripped and enhanced, porcelain skin changed color to a deep blue, silver hair twisted into tall black horns. The light of day seemed to only mildly perturb it.

The bloody red eyes glared at him and the monster’s long pitch black claws raked across the mattress, throwing up feathers as it sat up. Jaw yawned unnaturally wide as the creature lunged at him with a shriek.

Clockwork threw the rest of the bottle of holy water down its throat.

It didn't even make a sound. Just shuddered, grasping at its neck futilely, and fell in a slump back against the bed as a man.

Clockwork left the room to prepare for an exorcism.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Many hours later the lord’s eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks. His head lolled against new bed sheets spread underneath him. Dazed still. He tried prying open his blue eyes again.

He wasn’t so dazed that he couldn't detect heavy boot falls as a figure shuffled around popping open various sized jars and lighting small candles. They smelt like… baking? Oh god, Vlad's vision spun. He was going to be sick.

"Eurghhh," he groaned helpfully. He had wanted to berate the man to blow out the damn candles but he couldn’t force himself to utter a peep.

"These sage candles are not going to agree with you, but I ask that you try to bear with it, Lord Masters," rumbled a deep baritone voice. Just listening to the voice as it caressed his ears made him feel weirdly better. Calmer.

His mouth opened and closed uselessly for a spell before he found his voice."Who?" he croaked. He opened his eyes again. When had he closed them? The blurry outline grew larger. A hooded figure in dark purples loomed over him.

His terror must have shown on his face, "Ssssh, it's going to be okay," cooed the man. The stranger sank serenely onto the bed next to him and he wasn’t so huge anymore. A hand gently caressed his cheek. A gloved thumb slowly swiped away moisture that had collected there. Was he crying?

"Are you-are you some kind of priest?” Vladimir asked as his eyes studied the rich purples of his cloak, but he couldn’t help the growing sense of unease as they sat in silence. Fearful that complete darkness shrouded the other’s face, keeping his identity a secret. He couldn’t help the sudden churning of mental images in his head on who the man could possibly be, each worse than the last. He swallowed and looked down and away, starting to tremble slightly. “O-or are you death come for me at last?" he finished quietly.

The stranger chuckled, "No, my lord. I'm a Witcher named Clockwork; a monster slayer. I am here to perform an exorcism on the demon within you, if you wish it."

Movement caught Vlad’s eye as the figure –Clockwork- threw back his cowl. He couldn’t help but stare. Candle light danced over strong features that framed ruby red eyes that glistened within a sky blue face. White hair tickled his deeply scored cheek and pointed ears.

“An exorcism?” was all he could squeak as he tried to process the inhuman face.

Silence again between them both. Clockwork seemed to be a man of very few words, perhaps because of his separation from humans being both a Witcher and some kind of Fae? Vlad let hope rekindle within him.

Suddenly, another wave of nausea swept over him. He could feel fat drops of sweat drip down his forehead as the _thing_ shifted within him. The rough hand returned to his face, this time feeling his forehead.

"It won't  _work_ ,” Vlad simpered. Vlad turned his face away from the hand, despair contorting his features. Vividly remembering the dark whispers of the demon, of having his own body puppeteered against his will, of killing and killing and killing… God, he wasn’t going to start crying again now.

“ _Nothing_ has  _worked_. I don’t care what you do. I don’t care what you take. I wouldn't even find the embrace of death a comfort now."

Clockwork didn't reply, but suddenly the drawn out sound of a knife met his ears, and the bed dipped violently as the Witcher suddenly straddled his hips, pinning his legs. The knife whipped towards him and he startled, jerking away. A metallic clank sounded above his head. Chains? His hands couldn't move!

Clockwork paused and observed the human. The scared little creature strained desperately against the silver chains wrapped tightly around his wrists and forearms to the thick bedposts.

"Hey."

Vladimir stopped moving and buried his face against his bicep shivering in terror.

"To perform the rites I need to write runes across as much of your body as I can get at. I’ll just need to remove these rags you call clothes."

The Lord peeked out from under thick silver lashes, after a beat he finally understood, and gave a quick little nod.

The Witcher resumed prying apart the slippery fabrics of the silk shirt. "Tell me something about your demon,” Clockwork asked.

Vlad swallowed thickly, Clockwork watched his Adam’s Apple bob up and down. "The demon’s name is Plasmius. He’s been around since before I became a Lord, before the Great War, before-" his voice trailed off. That was something like 20 years. The length of possession was significant enough that Clockwork was now a little nervous. He’d have to wait and see.

His knife continued making little snicking noises as he cut away fabric revealing more and more porcelain skin, appealingly curved collar bones, dime sized dusky nipples, a lightly toned stomach, and salt and pepper hairs of a thin happy trail. Vlad squirmed uncomfortably underneath him and Clockwork briefly glanced up at the face turned away from him. Blushing like a tomato all the way down to his neck. _Cute_ , he thought absent minded. He shook his head. He was working. Now was absolutely not the time. He gathered the pile of rags and threw them off to the side.

Clockwork leaned over to the side table and grabbed a little pot of red ochre paint and a thick paintbrush. He kept his movements slow, knowing that the other was watching him intently. He dabbed the brush into the rich red color. He started at the man’s sternum, his hand flicked in quick little motions as he scrawled the strokes he knew off by heart. For some reason it seemed to be much more effective painting the glyphs and runes over the skin of the possessed, rather than carving the design on the floor around the spiritual container. A small sound stopped him and he removed the brush from his canvas as it suddenly jerked upwards in a fit of giggles. Vlad squirmed as he exploded into giggles.

Eventually when the laughter died down, Vlad glanced up into his stony facial expression where he had frozen. Mortified humiliation dusted his cheeks as he worried his bottom lip with his teeth. Vlad clamped his mouth shut, not saying a word in the hope the issue would just be dropped and forgotten.

_Vladimir is ticklish and it's fucking cute,_ thought the Witcher guiltily. He absently wondered if he should liaison with the Lord later, as he continued his work. Vlad squirmed,  kicked his pinned legs, and twisted like a eel, but kept his mouth clamped shut, bottling any embarrassing noises with sharp teeth biting the insides of his lips harshly.

Clockwork moved away from the ribs to finish the lettering across the quivering abdomen. He looked up briefly to check on the Lord and noticed a line of blood sliding down the human’s face from his clamped lips.

“Stop that,” he admonished sternly, bringing a hand up to pry the locked jaw open. He got the jaw open with his fingers finally and resumed putting the final touches on the design. It wasn’t in a Witcher’s nature to deny themselves anything, but Clockwork ignored those light pants and airy moans. Ignored them damnit! The demon wouldn’t be dormant forever and he would rather enjoy the little Lord later at his leisure without getting murdered.

He placed a silver crucifix against Vlad’s abdomen. The man’s hips jerked upwards, “Agh! Col’, col’!” he exclaimed in protest around the fingers in his mouth at the cold metal.

Ignoring that also. Clockwork gripped the crucifix with both his hands. His booming voice filled the large room with the Litany of Christ. The red runes on Vlad’s chest glowed with a soft white light. Even after he finished and the room fell into silence again, the words seemed to hang in the air. Clockwork waited, but… nothing happened. He tried a few other prayers that had sometimes worked for him in the past, the runes glowed brightly again in reception to the holy words, but they soon dulled. Again nothing. Why wasn’t this working? He had done this same process dozens of times before. His eyes roved the runes he had painted, some of them were quite messy, but they wouldn’t have glowed unless they were correct.

A sudden realisation gripped Clockwork. The only possibility. "You made a contract with it," he uttered in horror. Given the demon unknown power and unknown immunity to anything he could do. "What did you do?"

Laughter bubbled up from the man below him and the silver chains smoked slightly. Echoing laughter. "I gave him what he  _wanted_ ,” a suddenly different voice answered.

“He wanted power,” blue eyes blew out into angry reds.

“He wanted fortune,” black hair twisted up into black horns.  

“He wanted respect,” porcelain skin became deep blue.

“I gave it to him," jaw unhinged and clattered brokenly together in a gnashing of fangs and teeth as the creature laughed. The demon from before was definitely out to play again. Though wary, this didn’t frighten or startle the monster slayer. This song and dance he had seen a dozen times before. The demon’s laughter eventually died down when it noticed at the Clockwork’s bemused expression.

"Mind telling me what you would get out of such an elaborate contract? The usual? His mortal soul?"

The demon's features crumpled in distaste, "Eugh.  _No_. You think because he's a quivering, broken shambles of a man now that he was a good person? Pah! The damsel in distress aesthetic doesn't work that way, _badger_. Instead,” the demon’s chuckled unable to contain his mirth. “ _Instead_ ,  I took the only things precious to the man. His control. His will. And his  _Maddie_." Laughter again, "hers was a soul actually worth my time taking. In keeping her I can feed off this meat bags eternal despair." The demon’s red red eyes changed back into the human eyes of Vladimir's deep blues. They swivelled around in confusion and looked up pleadingly at Clockwork. The demon’s long, pronged tongue snaked out and slowly licked across its own cheek. The blue eyes contorted in horror and squeezed shut as tears ran down blue cheeks that the tongue languidly caught in little flicks.

A shudder coursed through the body and the features contorted to all demon again. No humanity left in those animalistic eyes.

" _Delicious_ ," the voice rumbled. “What will you do, Witcher?” The demon suddenly reverted back to a man that immediately broke down into terrified sobs.

Clockwork sat there for a moment just thinking. There were a couple things he could still try to dislodge the demon’s hold on the man… _some of them more appealing than others_ … he tried not to let his excitement show on his face as he stretched over to pluck an ornate glass jar carefully off the table. The light glow of the contents caught Vlad’s attention as he unscrewed the ornate wolf shaped cap. “If you need me to stop, remember that you can say something at any time. This,” Clockwork whispered as he slobbed glowing blue goop onto Vlad's skin, “will take away any pain”.

Vlad startled at the feeling. The sensation tickled and left him feeling warm and relaxed everywhere it touched him. He felt muddled and Confused? No, what was happening?

Calloused blue fingers ran across his chest, smudging the reds and blues painted on him into a swirling mess. He watched in mild fascination as all the color sunk into his skin, leaving just a slight sheen behind. "Wait, what are-" Short fingernails caught on his nipples as they dragged down his torso. His breath caught in his throat in a soft gasp. How was he suddenly so sensitive? Clockwork's face was set in an intense look as he stared at him, that made him become increasingly more hot and bothered. He still found himself shifting his head to the side to allow better access of his neck to the fingers. He could feel warm heat rush down and pool in his loins. He gasped at the sensation, feeling the other man’s desire against his. What was he doing? The delicious feeling enveloping him was just too good. For a second, he wanted nothing more than to have it everywhere.

"How does it feel?"

"I don't… it feels…" he exhaled, "good. Like I'm taking a warm bath."

The Witcher hummed in the back of his throat and leaned up on his knees. His hands ran down Vlad's trembling abdomen and sides to the top of his pants. He hooked his fingers under the band and started easing them down.

Even in his relaxed state, Vlad was suddenly awake at that. He writhed like an eel, legs free and jabbing Clockwork in the chest with one foot and his blue face with the other.

"No! no! Absolutely NOT!" he asserted, his hips pushed off the bed as he smooshed his foot further into the other with all his strength.

"It's going to be alright," was all Clockwork said like he was calming a small animal.

White hot anger coursed through Vlad at the nerve! “How dare you?! You think I’m the type of man that would lie in the gutter with another man?! Lie with the abominable offal of Satan’s witchcraft and sodomy?! ” A large hand caught him by the ankle. Vlad tried to rip his leg out of the iron grip, but the Witcher was  _strong_.

The non-human pressed his blue lips to the inside of his ankle softly and he could feel his face explode into heat as he met those sparkling ruby eyes. But otherwise the man stayed motionless, just like he said he would if he asked him to stop. Vlad felt all the anger bleed out of him into guilt at the things he had called the man.

“I… I just…” but there was no way he could force himself to apologise to the man. He simply nodded for the man to continue and in that moment of distraction his pants were ripped off his legs in one smooth motion and thrown over the back of the bed.

Not a stitch on his entire body. He was smaller and pinned down. Completely exposed and at the mercy of a Witcher. He suddenly couldn't get a word past the lump that had lodged in his throat. He tried rolling his lower half over to the side to cover himself with his legs, but found strong hands caught him easily again.

The blue goop returned again, those strong fingers massaging it down his right leg and down into every pore, poking even between his toes, thick thumbs digging into the muscles to work out the kinks of stress knotted there. God, it had to be a sin for it to feel that good. The leg flopped down against the bed as the man moved to work on the other one. An involuntary spasm rocked through his body, and he couldn't help but throw his head back and groan at the sensations.

Through a haze of pleasure that clouded his mind he noticed that his entire body glistened sinfully in the low candlelight and that the other man had gotten up to start taking off his clothes.

Swords, knives, bottles, and other pieces of armament were placed neatly on the table with the candles next to the bed. Vlad's eyes followed the thick leather armour that hiked up over the man's head, revealing more blue skin with a dusting of white hairs marching down the toned abs. Vlad's attention wavered after that. He was so relaxed he thought he would love to just lay there on the bed revelling in these sensations all day.

Suddenly the last of the goop poured over him and he could feel it drip down into his most secret areas. Clockwork's half-erection joined his and great mitts wrapped around both of them and slowly starting rubbing them both to hardness.

A shock bolted through Vlad. A cold creeping feeling. Absently he knew the high-pitched whining sound was coming from him when lips softly starting kissed along his face and neck. Something was wrong. Thick fingers traced around his hole. He was lost in and losing the feeling of his body. Fingers slipped into his softer parts to work and stretch them. He couldn't keep his eyes open. He couldn't speak. At the almost too full feeling of cock slipping painlessly into him, he was gone.

Smoke started bellowing up from the purpling arms at the top of the bed. Back suddenly straining, arching almost painfully backwards. Finger nails sharpening into claws, black and twisted wicked horns, blue skin- the demon was _back_. " _You_  still?", the creature hissed at him, rattling the chains around its wrists with much greater determination than last time. "I have never been called so many times in one day! What is the meaning of this, you insipid meat ball?!" Clockwork pulled out almost all the way and threw himself in again. That seemed to be answer enough as to what he was doing, surely?

Chains stretched. Narrowed eyes glowed red spelling _murder_ , not lighting up anything of his face shadowed in the darkness. It gave an animalistic growl, the links buckled and groaned, but they held. The demon observed its constraints with a snort, before throwing red red eyes back towards the Witcher. If Clockwork were any less experienced he would have thought that this was the most docile demon he had ever come across, but he saw the calculating look in those eyes. Saw the machinations and plans forming in that head to forward his demise. The demon had mentioned that it usually didn’t surface this frequently… was this linked to Clockwork’s current activities with Vladimir?

Clockwork allowed himself the smallest of smirks."You should know,  _Plasmius_. If a contract is made with a demon in eros, then eros can also break it. Is that why I’m seeing so much of you today? Isn't that why you kept Vladimir untouched and alone for these past 20 years?"

"You should know,  _Witcher,"_ Plasmius replied rolling his hips languidly against the cock impeded in its ass. "You’ll still have to make  _me_  come  _first_ ," chuckled the demon darkly. Plasmius strained his arms again and arched his back appealingly. Clockwork found that he was unable to look away as the blade of a very pink tongue swiped from right to left over plush blue lips, teeth, and long, sharp fangs. Clockwork could feel sweat drip down the back of his neck as he swallowed the lump in his throat. Plasmius grinned and swayed his head from side to side with a slight shake of his shoulders,  _preening_  under the attention. His hips started gyrating in slow circles and he strained handsomely again against the chains encasing his arms. Posing and laying exultant in his knowledge he was gorgeous. _Fuuuuck_.

"Now, we can  _really_  have a good time-"  it whispered in a low voice as it hooked long shapely legs over his shoulders bringing him closer, "-if you let me go?" Like a snake's, its long  forked tongue cheekily flickered back and forth over his nose with a faint hissing noise.

Clockwork reeled his head back out of licking distance. The sweet expression fell off Plasmius’s face. Clockwork grabbed two handfuls of ass and started up like a piston. Slow pace from earlier completely forgotten, it was suddenly a competition between the two bodies as they thrust against each other with all the force they could muster. Grunts, groans, moans, and flesh slapping noises filled the destroyed room. Clockwork hissed when Plasmius clenched around him, stuttering his pace to an abrupt halt. He grabbed the free dick between them in response and started rapidly pumping it. Plasmius roared in outrage, “Cheater!” it hollered. Suddenly the silver chains snapped and gave way. The creature launched across the small space between them, and they tumbled down the King sized bed over and over each other. Long claws flurried and clawed at everything they could grasp. Bed posts were deeply scored, feathers tossed in the air, Clockwork’s blue skin zigzagged with great jagged marks.

Legs clamped around his waist kept them locked together as they struggled. The hand he had on Plasmius’s dick was slapped away. Long claws cut a bloody line across his neck. He cried out in pain.

Plasmius laughed as it continued riding him into the mattress, “when I’m done with you I'll unzip your skin and wear it like a jacket!" the creature whispered as it brought its claws closer, caging his face, intent on inflict more pain.

 Clockwork punched it in the face, busting his knuckles open. The creature fell back again and another cloud of feathers erupted into the air. He was up before it, throwing his weight onto its back. The creature twisted and he shoving its head into the mattress, grabbing the remains of the silver chains to twist its arm behind its back. Its hollered murder into the depths of the mattress as he entered and continued ramming in and out. It struggled desperately still trying to kill, maim, escape, but was also beginning to _respond_ in little gasps, and mewls. A demon not able to resist sodomy? How cliché.

"Wait," whispered a voice. "Nooo more. Pleaaaase. I can’t!" Midnight black hair flopped down into silver tresses against the man's trembling shoulders. Clockwork ground to a halt. "I can't take any-any mooore," began the soft sobbing noise again. Vladimir?

Clockwork pulled out slowly, picking up the smaller man under the armpits like a small kitten, and just held the man against his chest so that he was leaning up against the headboard. Vladimir’s head was buried into his shoulder for comfort while straddling his hips. Though both their erections stood wet and at attention between them, Clockwork carded his fingers through Vlad’s sweaty locks of hair, untangling any knots he found carefully in a small still moment. Breathing carefully to calm his churning want.

"Please," Vlad's lips quivered against his neck. Hot, thick tears ran down his shoulder. "please, I don't care anymore" he whispered like he couldn't comprehend what he wanted. The Witcher shushed him as the small human continued sobbing into his shoulder. He started stroking the back of Vlad's head that was tucked under his chin and he almost missed the soft, "just save me," it was so quiet.

"It's okay. I'll take care of Plasmius. It’s okay"

Clockwork  takes Vlad’s long face between his hands and kisses him deeply. Raining kisses down on his face until his tears stopped. This shit really hits him in the maternal instincts he didn’t know he even _had_.

Eventually the sobbing quieted. "Alright now?" Clockwork asked, holding Vlad’s flustered face between two hands as the man fidgeted, not sure where to look, where to put his hands.

The reply was short and simple. "Thank you," Vlad whispered, he sounded infinitely thankful for the small break. Looking down shyly.

When the Witcher was finally able to catch eye contact  he nudged Vlad back up onto his knees, took the furiously blushing face between his hands again, and kissed  him deeply. He nudged easily back into the small heat. The pace was slow and sensual this time around. Vlad reciprocated valorously with the help of large hands guiding his narrow hips. Clockwork initiated a kiss again, tilting his head slightly, and working Vlad's mouth open with little licks and nips to release all the hot little moans and noises he kept pent up between those clamped lips.

A strange noise choked quietly out of Vlad. Clockwork stopped praising a spot he had found on the man’s Adam’s apple with his mouth, but Vlad’s soft hands carefully held his face still to the white swan neck. A soft laughing rose in volume and rang out chillingly through the room in cold barks.

Suddenly, claws dug into his shoulder and the body over him turned cold like ice. “Got you, fool.” In his periphery he could see fangs yawning open next to his face. A flash. He screamed in pain over Vlad’s thin shoulder as they sunk into his shoulder. His whole body strained and he grit his teeth together. Pain pain pain.

Little purrs and growls rose from the demon’s throat as it fed. Lapping at skin as it messily ate. Clockwork grabbed Plasmius’s dick carefully and rubbed his thumb under the crown in slow circles, digging a forefinger into the slit. The creature above him made gurgling keening sound, but was enraptures with _feeding_ it didn’t do anything else. Clockwork grunted, trapped between a demon and a solid headboard. He didn’t dare to flip their positions; wary of the hunk of flesh caught between the Plasmius’s teeth that he was rapidly not being able to  feel.

Clockwork braced his shoulders against the headboard behind him and dug his folded legs into the mattress. Sweating and he strained back in and out of that cool slick hole. Grasping the leaking blue dick in a tight grip as he tried angling to get that one spot over and over.  

The demon gasped and its fangs let go. The hot wet feeling of his own blood ran slick down his chest between them. The sickly sweet smell of rust permeated the air and the demon’s face twisted in a look of rapture. _Reveling_ and lost in the sensations. Clockwork grunted and strained. Pummelling the body above him. He could feel himself getting close.  He was holding himself back like he was on the edge of a knife blade. He grabbed Plasmius’s dick again, rapidly beating it off. The creature quaked above him and  threw back its head in an inhuman howl that rang out loudly through the room. It came hot little spurts. Dick twitching as blue fingers milked the last few drops out between them.

The blue form shuddered and slumped against clockwork’s bloody chest. Just a man again.

Clockwork panted heavily, a vein popped out at his forehead. God, he was so close. He just had to pull out and-

Vlad moved slightly, looking up at Clockwork through silvery lashes and around. _Fuuuuuuu_ , thought Clockwork in despair. Vlad looked up at him and then between them, appraising the situation.

Vlad straightened up. Although he panted heavily and he looked a haggard mess, with perfect posture and jaw proudly set he still managed to look every inch a regal lord. Vladimir  took Clockwork’s chin between long fingers, “Come,” he commanded and Clockwork’s mind blanked out. Not able to resist any more as he came inside the silver haired Lord with a loud grunt. They both sat there just breathing for a second in the after-glow. Coming down from their respective adrenaline highs.

Clockwork eventually leaned over the side of the bed to grab a bucket.

“What do we need that-” suddenly Vlad's face turned gray and Clockwork quickly shoved the wooden bucket into the man's hands. Vlad hunched over, black sludge vomiting out of the man's mouth, and neatly into the bucket. Clockwork carded his blue fingers through the human's hair and held it back in a loose bunch so that it didn't get in the way. There was  _always_  vomiting at an exorcism.

After a few minutes, Vlad's shoulders lurched only to give a few dry heaves. He breathed softly and spat in the bucket, looking up through his sweaty, bedraggled locks.

"Is that it? Is it done?" Vlad looked into the bucket of swirling blackness, "is this all that's left of him?"

Clockwork carefully took the bucket and tucked it under the side table to dispose of later at a more convenient location.

"That's it."

A bright -but tired- smile lit up Vladimir’s.  The Witcher waited patiently for the customary 'thank you, now please get fuck out.'

Instead tentative pink lips suddenly covered his. Clockwork's features widened in shock, before he lightly took the other's pink shoulders and kissed back, tilting his head just slightly to get a better angle. Hands wrapped around the back of his neck and they both fell back into the mess of the mattress again.


End file.
